


It's Not An Ordinary Day

by GhostGarrison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Birthday, Circle of Magi, Depression, Humor, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 09:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: Anders thinks everyone has forgotten about his nameday, but apparently Karl has spent the whole afternoon planning his present. For the tumblr prompt "gifts," from therealmnemo.





	It's Not An Ordinary Day

Eyes closed and lying on his back in the upper bunkbed, Anders silently listens to the noises of his fellow apprentices getting ready for for the day. Most of them chatter among themselves, but the conversations are always the same--“How did you sleep?” “Like a nug in a nest” and “Did you finish your research essay? May I copy it at breakfast?”--like it’s any ordinary day in Kinloch Hold.

But it isn’t just another day for Anders. It’s his Nameday. 

His fifthteenth, to be exact.

Sighing to himself, Anders rolls over and burrows himself beneath his heavy blanket. Unlike outside the tower, Namedays are nothing special in the Circle. Mages don’t celebrate any holidays. In fact, if it wasn’t for dedicated people marking each day on handmade calendars scribbled on spare parchment, most tower mages wouldn’t even know what month it is.

Anders sulks at breakfast, poking his meager meal with his fork but not taking a single bite. He doesn’t feel hungry, he’d rather just go back to sleep. Not one of his fellow apprentices have mentioned the occasion, not that many people outside his dormitory would know of it. Karl would remember, but Anders hasn’t seen the other apprentice in the dining hall that morning.

Not that Anders is expecting anything for it, of course. Mages aren’t allowed to keep what they create, as everything has to be sold to pay the tower’s expenses. To a mage, giving gifts is an abstract concept.

But a _“Happy Nameday, Anders”_ or even just a smile would be nice in this gray, soul-crushing place. Would that be too much to ask?

For the rest of the day, Anders keeps an eye out for the other apprentice in the halls and communal spaces. Much to his dismay, they don’t share any lessons since they’re planning on going into different schools of magic. Ever since Anders showed an aptitude for Spirit Healing, they haven’t been able to spend much time together.

He decides to ask Colin, one of the mages in Karl’s Primal lesson group, at dinner.

“Hm? Oh,” the apprentice says, pondering for a moment before shrugging. “I haven’t seen him all day. Senior Enchanter Torrin was not pleased he skipped.”

The news strikes him as strange. It’s not that Karl doesn’t have a past of ditching lessons, but when he does, it’s usually to spend a lazy afternoon with Anders. Which is clearly not the case this time. Where could Karl be? Is he in trouble? Did they take him for his Harrowing? Could he, at this very moment, be dead from failing it?

After a day of ditching his own lessons and dodging the various authority figures who come after him for it, Anders slips back into bed with a long sigh. He clenches his eyes shut, trying to stave off the tears he feels building. He’s not upset about people forgetting about his Nameday--really, he isn’t!--but rather he’s upset with his reality settling heavily over his heart and bones. Life in the Circle will never be like life outside, not one bit. Namedays, Summerday, even Satinalia don’t have any meaning or significance anymore. They’re just like any ordinary day. They _are_ any ordinary day, here in Kinloch Hold.

His life has been reduced to learning to control his magic, _‘to serve man, and never to rule over him’_ or whatever it is that the Chantry sisters preach every week. For the rest of his time in the tower, however long or short that may be, Anders will be stripped of anything and everything that ordinary people have.

He’s just begun to doze when a hand on his shoulder jolts him awake with a gasp. Anders squints in the darkness, making out just the outline of his friend. Something akin to relief floods over Anders, finally seeing his friend after an afternoon of worrying. Before he can open his mouth, Karl presses a finger over Anders’ lips.

“Come with me,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around Anders’ wrist and pulling him through the familiar darkness. Anders grumbles but shuffles after him, feeling exhausted from the mental toil of dealing with earlier troublesome thoughts that wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace.

When they reach the fourth floor, Karl stops them in a secluded hallway.

“This is the templars’ quarters,” Anders whispers, eyes nervously darting toward the hall. Sneaking out after curfew is second nature to him, but even he isn’t stupid enough to sneak into the fourth floor. Punishment would be much harsher, and one can’t claim to be wandering or sleepwalking while this far from the apprentice dormitories. Thankfully the nightwatch is lighter and more sparse than during the daytime. Most templars wouldn’t be asleep just yet, but they tend to keep to their quarters instead of roaming the floor.

Karl spins on his heel, arms encircling Anders and pulling him in for a strong, warm embrace. “Happy Nameday.”

Anders blinks in surprise before ducking his head to hide his face in the crook of Karl’s neck. “You remembered…”

“Of course I did,” Karl says, breaking the hug but keeping his arms wrapped around Anders’ shoulders. “What do you think I’ve been doing all afternoon?”

“Um… avoiding me?”

Karl quietly chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I was planning your present.”

“Oh?” Anders says, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting to receive gift, but this isn’t exactly the place for it. “And my present is, what, in one of the templars’ rooms?”

“No.” Rolling his eyes, Karl turns away. “Just… Just watch, alright?”

Stooping to one knee, Karl places his palm against the stone floor. Anders feels a slight surge of magic as ice branches from Karl’s fingertips, quickly frosting over the entire floor of the hallway, from where they stand to the stairs twenty steps away. Another pulse of magic smooths the ice over, creating a glistening surface in which Anders could see his own reflection.

Karl rises to his feet again, the same hand now raised and his eyes closed in concentration. All around them, little rocks and pebbles from the tower’s crumbling walls shake and tremble before flying to form around his fist.

“What are you doing?” Anders asks.

“Your Nameday gift,” Karl says simply before making a sharp jab, sending the Stonefist soaring down the hall. It crashes against the far wall with a loud crack and the sound of dozens of rocks falling to the floor.

“What are you--” Anders starts before everything starts clicking into place. “Oh… OH!”

Seconds later a door is flung open and a templar bursts forward. He takes one heavy-booted step onto the ice before immediately slipping over the glossy surface, gracelessly falling to his arse with a loud clang. The templar shouts, sliding down the hall with little control over his course. He lashes out with his hands, the tips of his gauntlets scraping against the ice but doing little to slow him down before crashing against the wall.

Anders chokes back a laugh, chest heaving in shaking breaths as he tries staying as silent as he can. He glances to Karl, whose lips are turned up in a gratified smile but his eyes are still carefully trained on the happenings in the hall.

“What in the Void was that?” says another voice just before a second templar tumbles out of the room. She swears loudly as she falls, sliding several feet before crashing into the first templar. Their plate armor collide with another loud clash of iron, loose pieces falling loose and skidding away.

Two more templars emerge from a different room, unconscious of the thick layer of shiny ice that coats the floor. By the time they notice, their frosted fate is sealed.

“No! Stop!” One cries, eyes impossibly wide as a third and fourth skate uncontrollably toward them.

 _“Fucking Andraste--!”_ screams one of the toppling templars.

It takes an enormous amount of self-control for Anders not to laugh as more and more templars join their comrades in the pile at the end of the hallway, all of them too preoccupied to check the situation before barrelling out of their quarters. _‘Typical templar behavior,’_ Anders thinks smugly, _‘finally hurting themselves instead of innocent mages.’_

“What’s all this then?” says a nightwatch captain, coming up the stairs to check out all the commotion. He takes one step onto the floor before his foot slips out from beneath him. All templars stop their struggling and turn their attention to watch the man flail before falling backward, tumbling down the stairs in a dramatic roll. The sound of clanking armor grows quieter until it stops, no doubt the man reaching the landing of the stairwell.

Karl grabs Anders’ hand, threading their fingers together before dashing away from the scene of their crime. They get as far as the entrance to the apprentices’ floor before bursting out into hysterical laughter. Shoulder to shoulder, they sink against the wall while clutching their stomachs as they laugh so hard it hurts.

Nearly in tears, Anders wipes at the corners of his eyes before turning to Karl. It’s still nighttime, so he speaks in a loud whisper despite laughing boisterously a minute prior. “That was quite possibly the _best_ gift anyone could have ever gotten me.”

Karl grins proudly, looking profoundly satisfied in what he’s done. “Oh? Then I suppose we don’t have to drop by Ser Greagoir’s office?”

Eyes widening, Anders gapes at him. “No… no way!”

“Happy Nameday,” Karl says again, kissing him on the cheek before taking his hand once more. “Let’s go!”

**Author's Note:**

> a writing exercise piece for a tumblr prompt
> 
> find me there @ storybookhawke


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